erous this man is, and how good a cause
he has to hate you. I would not have divulged your name had I not known
that the frequency of your visits here and the encouragement which I
openly give you as the future suitor of my daughter, would be sure to
come to his ears, and he would speedily discover that it was you
who saved our lives on the Thames and gave your testimony before the
justices as to the conversation in the hut on the marshes. Thus I
forestalled what he would in a few days have learnt."

"I fear him not, lady," Walter said calmly. "I can hold mine own, I
hope, against him in arms, and having the patronage and friendship of
Sir Walter Manny I am above any petty malice. Nevertheless I will hold
myself on my guard. I will, so far as possible, avoid any snare which
he may, as 'tis not unlikely, set for my life, and will, so far as I
honourably can, avoid any quarrel with which he may seek to saddle me."

A few days later Walter again met Sir James Carnegie in the king's
anteroom, and saw at once, by the fixed look of hate with which he had
regarded him, that he had already satisfied himself of his identity.
He returned the knight's stare with a cold look of contempt. The knight
moved towards him, and in a low tone said, "Beware, young sir, I have a
heavy reckoning against you, and James Carnegie never forgets debts of
that kind!"

"I am warned, Sir James," Walter said calmly, but in the same low tone,
"and, believe me, I hold but very lightly the threats of one who does
not succeed even when he conspires against the lives of women and
children."

Sir James started as if he had been struck. Then, with a great effort he
recovered his composure, and, repeating the word "Beware!" walked across
to the other side of the chamber. The next day Walter went down the
river and had a talk with his friend Geoffrey.

"You must beware, lad," the armourer said when he told him of the return
of Sir James Carnegie and the conversation which had taken place between
them. "This man is capable of anything, and careth not where he chooseth
his instruments. The man of the hut at Lambeth has never been caught
since his escape from Richmond Jail--thanks, doubtless, to the gold
of his employer--and, for aught we know, may still be lurking in the
marshes there, or in the purlieus of the city. He will have a grudge
against you as well as his employer, and in him Sir James would find a
ready instrument. He is no doubt connected, as be